Mountainside
by Ithilwen K-Bane
Summary: Town-on-the-Mountain has gotten too quiet for a certain monk, who decides to pass the time by finding a girl for his best friend. Inspired by William Wyncherly's "The Country Wife." Rated for language, adult themes and debauchery. ON INDEFINITE HIATUS.
1. After Hours

The characters of Miroku, Inuyasha and Sesshoumaru are the creations and property of Rumiko Takahashi and her publishers, although I must also give acknowledgement to William Wyncherly's "The Country Wife" for inspiring me to write this.

This was originally written for Patchcat's opening iy_blind challenge, "Plan B" back in July. I don't currently plan to continue this story. It's something I may return to if the spirit moves. I just thought this opening had some fun moments.

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Miroku exhaled, then breathed in the scent of the sake in his cup and wondered, not for the first time, what the hell he was still doing in this town.

Oh it was far from the worst place he'd been, a good-sized fortified settlement with s few shining specks of civilization. It even had a couple of dancers who didn't look like the wrong end of a boar demon ...and out here in demon country, that was really saying something. Miroku had had his doubts about the whole closed sewer system idea, but so far the thing seemed to be working. The strongest scents on the wind tonight were coming from the cup in his hand and the pine forests beyond the palisades.

You had to hand it to dog demons. They knew how to make a place smell halfway decent.

Still, Miroku had lingered too long. He leaned back, twisting on his cushion to see out the window. This building was a few streets from the town wall, but above a few dingy streets and a toothed crown of the palisade, half the sky was solid green. The land fell away steeply here, splitting as the woods and wastes gave way to bottomland. There was inuyoukai territory to his left, yorouzoku to his right, and human farms and fields leading the middle way back down the mountainside all the way to the sea. It was an interesting place to live, but the road was calling, and not for the first time. The jealous husbands all knew him by sight and there were only so many times that a fellow could convince the same innkeepers that a malicious demon presence had settled on their roofs. Superfluous exorcism wasn't exactly a repeat business.

Miroku stretched the kinks out of his shoulders. After a swift look left and right, he shrugged the edges of his kesa low and rubbed hard at his itching neck. All day long he played the modest and laconic monk with the discipline of a dancer. Only when he was alone could he drop the mask and joke, slouch, drink and scratch to his heart's content.

Alone ...or with a similarly off-duty friend.

Inuyasha belched loudly and scuffled at his head with one bare foot. "Hey, could we get some more beer over here already?" he snapped at the serving maid.

"But Inuyasha," said Miroku, suddenly feeling very proper, "I thought you didn't like Mistress Barako's brew. Something about the wringings of a puke demon's loincloth, as I recall."

Inuyasha gave the throat-deep growl that Miroku had learned to associate with grudging agreement. "I don't."

Miroku flicked an eyebrow and let it go. "Rough day at work, then?" he changed the subject, taking that first demure sip. Later on, things might get less demure.

"Sucked," said Inuyasha. "Lord Oda's been letting his herdsmen onto wolf tribe territory again. Kouga came and bitched me out about it. I swear, if this alliance falls apart because of a few damned scabby sheep—"

"Can't you just flash your fangs at him and threaten to eat his children? That worked just fine on the Hojos last year."

"I tried. Stupid fuck ain't buying it."

Miroku allowed himself a sly smile, "My dear Inuyasha," he said. "I warned you this day would come. My fellow humans are beginning to realize that your savage mask shields a heart full of kindness and compassion."

"Nah. It's just that those kids are so fuck-ugly that even a hog demon wouldn't touch 'em, and I think he knows it."

"Actually, I've found pig demons in general to be rather discriminating," added Miroku.

"Whatever! If I don't get Oda to keep his goddamned sheep in their own goddamned pen—"

"His wife's been trying to do that for years," Miroku interjected.

"—then Kouga's going to go and eat them and maybe Oda's vassals too. You know what happens then," Inuyasha snapped. "Oda claims Kouga attacked first and sends soldiers into the woods to guard the herds, the humans get all riled up, the wolf tribe builds up their defenses, which makes the dog clan build up _their_ defenses and then dad gets all up _my_ ass about how it's my fault and my goddamned brother smirks at me like I'm some dumb mutt and half the clan agrees with him."

"Inuyasha," Miroku said patiently. "Your father knows you do your best."

"Yeah, my best," Inuyasha slouched into the shadows. "My fucking hanyou best. That's the problem."

"Ah, this again," Miroku said simply. "Inuyasha, this town is the cornerstone of the longest-lasting human-demon alliance in living memory—"

"Two measly years."

''—still a record," Miroku grudged. "And you're holding it together with your two hands. Who else, full dog demon or not, could do what you've done?"

"None of them," Inuyasha answered sullenly. "Ten minutes inside your human walls and they start to twitch. _Any_ full dog demon does."

And there was the real hangup. Miroku took another sip of his drink. There was nothing he could do here. Inuyasha craved the pack and probably always would. But he was bound to his half-human form. The woods and wastes were no place for a dog demon who couldn't run on four feet. In the years before Town-on-the-Mountain had been founded... Inuyasha gave out the impression that he'd tried, but tried to do what and with what level of success he hadn't said. Miroku could only suppose that it was poor.

"Well..." Miroku trailed off. "Your human traits do have their advantages."

"I know, I know," Inuyasha slashed one claw in the air. "Dad yelps them at me every time he can stand coming to visit. 'If you want to help the clan, you stay and be our mouthpiece.' Hell, sometimes I think he only fucked my mom so that he could dump some half-human son on the border to do the dirty work."

"Such a son he would not trust to carry the Tessaiga," Miroku answered. "Anyway, that's not what I meant."

"Oh?" Inuyasha asked. Out of the corner of his eye, Miroku could see the suspicious interest creep across his face. "What are you getting at?"

"I mean," said Miroku, "that while your brother has a certain ethereal charm—"

"He looks like a friggin' girl. You can say it."

"—sometimes a more grounded appearance," Miroku saw the flush rise, the flesh-pink sign of the very human blood running inside those demon veins, "can have the desired effect."

"What effect do you mean?" Inuyasha asked suspiciously.

Miroku sighed. "Girls, Inuyasha. I think you need a goddamned girl." Miroku wondered for a second what he was doing.

Inuyasha gave a snort. "Hey, I might be able to stand the way you reek after a few cups of sake, monkey boy, but sneaking around with some bored human sow ain't my idea of fun. 'Sides, don't the henpecked husbands beat your ass half the time?"

"It's nowhere near half the time," Miroku corrected. "And in this town there are plenty of foxes to go with the sows and hens. Anyway, who says it has to be sneaking around? "I can't believe I'm about to say this, but I think you should even consider getting married. I know that I could never be so selfish as to confine myself to one woman—" Inuyasha half-choked on his beer, giving Miroku a good spray "—but there are many kinds of men in this world."

Inuyasha's ears twitched and his claws rapped on the tabletop.

"Oh do not pretend that you didn't know what Imeant by that. Or do I have to tell you exactly what Master Mushin said to me about it? I know how you love my stories about growing up in the temple."

"Spare me," Inuyasha snorted. "'Sides, Dad said I would have an inuyoukai bride."

Miroku put down his cup and pulled in a breath.

"What?" snarled Inuyasha.

"It's nothing important," said the monk, cursing inwardly. Since when had a half a cup been enough for him to slip up like this?

"What were you going to say, Miroku?"

"Hey, is that your brother walking around without his makeup on?"

Inuyasha growled deeply. "You were gonna say something, monkey boy, now what is it?"

Miroku sighed. "You don't think that your father was being..." he searched for the word, "...diplomatic?" The brightness returned to his face like new plaster. "That must be where you get your miraculous skills of negotiation, my friend! Now, about getting you a girl, my master Mushin taught me a few tricks that—"

"What the hell do you mean, 'diplomatic'?" Inuyasha's eyes were narrow and gleaming like two a pair of angry hornets. Miroku actually gulped, then pulled his calm around him like a robe. This was what made this friendship worth his time; he just couldn't read the boy. Oh, he could tell that Inuyasha played the fool for the nobles. It was a lot easier to get someone to think you'd pull their kidneys out through their ass if that someone thought you were actually dumb enough to reach in and try to find them. But Miroku could never tell how much of it was an act. With Inuyasha, it was either play into his animal naïveté or call his bluff and hope he didn't throw you off of one.

Miroku, as always, preferred to play.

"Inuyasha," he said gently. "You can't take full dog-demon form and you can't run with the pack in the wild. The heavens only know how long you tried to make it work with your clan. Any bride your father sends to Town-on-the-Mountain will either be someone else who can't do that or..." Miroku took a sip of his drink, staring off into the woodwork in search of a safer line of talk. "Or say you do marry an inu demon and there's not a thing wrong with her. What then? You said yourself they can't live inside human settlements. She might share your bed twice a year when the clan passes through, but that doesn't make a real wife."

Inuyasha shrugged. "Well I've been working on that place over on the bluffs. That's far enough outside the walls."

Miroku shook his head. "It's still a _house_, Inuyasha. It has its own walls."

"It is not a house," Inuyasha answered snittily. "It is a bona-fide," Miroku ducked a waft of slightly beer-scented breath, "authentic inuyoukai den!"

"And how many of those stay inhabited year-round?" Miroku asked pointedly. "The fact that you spend your unoccupied hours making a _building_, Inuyasha," he shook his head. "That says something about you. That is what humans do. And it's a _good_ thing."

Inuyasha glared back.

The monk looked away and took another drink. That was the thing about conversations like this one. Nobody ever really won. He twisted his cup between his hands. It was time to either cheer up or get out before his mood turned the drink sour, and if there was one sin that Miroku did not mean to commit, it was wasting good booze. He took another sip, more of a proper mouthful, really.

...well, good-enough booze. Damn but he had to get out of this town.

"Consider this, my friend," Miroku said, pulling his less-thank-monkly smile back up to his lips, "even if you were to marry some lady of the dog clan, sooner or later you would find yourself right back here, one more lonely man in dire need of a girl." He gestured with his glass. "Besides," he said lightly, "I thought you told me that inuyoukai women were all soul-devouring pig-bitches anyway."

"Not _all_ of them," Inuyasha bristled, "just the ones I've met."

Was he joking or not? It was maddening ...not nearly as maddening as when Miroku was stone-cold sober, but maddening none the less.

"Well, my friend?" Miroku asked delicately. "Ready to bump Town-on-the-Mountainside up to plan A? But if you're concerned for your safety, I'll pay it no mind. Human women are more dangerous than they look."

Inuyasha shook his head. "Inuyoukai women grow poison in their claws," he said.

"Human women just slip it into your tea."

The dog demon's shoulders dropped in a shrug, but Miroku knew better. The truth was in the ears.

_Twitch._

"Most of the girls 'round here know me, monk."

"So you don't need an introduction."

"This better not be one more of your sick games, Miroku," Inuyasha said seriously.

"Inuyasha," Miroku answered, raising his cup to his lips and knocking its contents down his throat, "I am feeling healthier by the moment." He frowned into the empty stoneware, "...which leads me to suspect that this is not strong enough," he added, waving toward the proprietress.

The woman set out two more cups, and though their content was no better, there was enough to go around. The evening proceeded more normally from there. Inuyasha would call the human nobles hopeless fools and the human peasants homes for fleas. Miroku would describe some narrow escape that a completely hypothetical monk had made from a completely hypothetical nunnery. From time to time, Miroku would bring up his idea again, and Inuyasha would seem less and less surly about it, but that could have been the beer talking.

Inuyasha played the fool and Miroku played the priest. But what happened when those layers were peeled away? The womanizing confidence man shone bright and wet even through that pious, papery skin, like fluid seeping through a bandage. There was nothing like convincing someone to accept his own idea of what was best, whether it was an excorcism or a sweet distraction between dusk and dawn. But peel that away too, and then what? Underneath the scuffs and scabs, Miroku had to admit it to himself: there was no con like conning someone into spiritual fulfillment.

And by the end of the evening, when the half-demon swatted Mistress Barako's door out of the way like the moths that were collecting around her front lamps, Miroku found that he had a project. He shrugged (which left him wondering why they'd installed a doorjam right _there_ of all places). Maybe his own motives weren't as crystalline as he'd thought. He blinked out at the window, at the long, twisting road down the mountain steadily seeping into the powdery black of the gathering night. If he'd really wanted to leave, then why had he looped himself into a new project like a string through a bead?

Perhaps there was more than one con running tonight. Miroku was honest enough to know that the road away from Town-on-the-Mountain had never been Plan A.

The evening air cracked with a loud curse. Someone had gotten in Inuyasha's slightly drunken way.

Plan B was looking complicated. Miroku breathed deeply of the night air. If he was going to do this ...then he'd have to find a way to keep himself occupied as well. The matter would need some thought.

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drf24 (at) columbia (dot) edu

Request: Can anyone out there tell me if Japanese towns of this size were already using closed sewer systems? I can't seem to recall when closed sanitation became common in Japan. Not going to be a plot point. Just curious.


	2. Helpmeet

Here we go! _Inuyasha_ is the property of Rumiko Takahashi and "The Country Wife" is the public-doman work of W. Wyncherly.

But first, random _Twilight_ benighted:

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EDWARD: (to Bella) You'd better stay away from me. I find you so crazy intoxicating that I want to eat you.

BELLA: Is that some kind of Northwestern talk? We'll I'm hip. I think you're hot too.

EDWARD: No, I mean that literally.

BELLA: HOT.

EDWARD: I want to stalk you like a bunny and suck out your corpuscles in a very non-metaphorical manner!!

BELLA: Pick me up at eight!

EDWARD: (shakes her) I'M GOING TO KILL YOU, GODDAMMIT!

BELLA: AWESOME!

EDWARD: Gyah!

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Miroku walked briskly in the early morning light, yet another reason why he had to get out of this town rising to the surface: Mistress Barako's brew might taste like the wrong end of a rafting pole, but it could still leave a fellow feeling as though his head had been split open. It took all of his monkly discipline to maintain a mild and composed expression.

He flicked his eyes around the street. The ratting siftings of the stews looked back at him with a hundred eyes that they weren't supposed to have. This town wasn't that big to begin with, and this wasn't one of its better neighborhoods. The fact that a local monk smelled like an old lady was probably the least of anyone's worries. What had possessed him to settle here, or in one place at all? The jealous husbands all knew him by sight and there were only so many times that a fellow could convince the same innkeeper that a malicious demon presence had settled on his roof. Superfluous exorcism wasn't exactly a repeat business industry. He stifled a sign and knocked on the shopkeeper's door.

The door opened, and Miroku's unlikely helpmeet met his polite smile with the barest hint of a scowl.

The apothecary was a relative newcomer to Town-on-the-Mountain. She'd turned up a few months back and set up shop offering healing herbs and other treatments. The novelty of a young beautiful woman with no husband and no visible interest in finding one had set gossiping tongues wagging. She was a witch from the southlands, come to ensnare the spirits of the townsfolk. She was a courtesan driven from Kyoto by jealous rivals, and the boy who lived with her was the son of a great nobleman. She was a priestess from Musashi who had come in secret to protect the settlement from the demons of the peak. However, the girl's unending modesty had eventually bored the overworked maids and plump housewives back to their usual fare of cheating husbands and Inuyasha.

Staying in town to find Inuyasha a girl was all well and good, but a man had to make provision for his own needs. With his reputation an open secret the entire town and most of the outlying settlements, it was time to get ..._drastic_. Somewhere between the buzz of having a new project and the unholy shrieking of bad sake, Miroku had come up with a plan, and _such_ a plan. Another few mugs and he'd managed the courage to put it into motion.

It would have done his old master Mushin proud. Or had him beating his head against the floor in shame.

"Good morning, madame," Miroku greeted the woman.

"Good morning, Houshi-sama," she replied with a little bow that somehow managed to convey every inch of her disapproval.

"And may I ask how you have fared on the mission I gave you yesterday?" Miroku prompted.

The apothecary folded her arms across her chest. "Well it was beneath my dignity as a taijiya and an honest woman, but I have done as you asked."

Miroku blinked. "A taijiya?" He recovered quickly, "Ah I'd been wondering why my local herbmaster would stride about her shop with such uncanny grace. It seems we have even more in common than I'd thought," he said warmly. "Tell me, what do you think of our treaty with the spirits? Do you think it will last?"

"A person can hope," she answered levelly. "I have no wish to return to my former profession. My knowledge of herbs and healing has allowed me to earn an honest living," she said. "I have no fear of peace."

"But surely you work elsewhere, serving a more ...respectable clientele," Miroku suggested carefully.

Her narrowed eyes bored into his. Miroku kept his face mild. He'd stared down scavenging centipedes the size of horses, met the eight gaping eyes of the spiderhead demons. A feisty young woman with an attitude? Oh, but it would take more than that to make him quail.

"In any case," he continued, unfazed, "about yesterday."

"I went to of the greatest gossipmongers in town and repeated the information you gave me, as you gave it to me."

"No embellishments?" Miroku asked playfully.

"None from me," the woman answered. "But I expect the story will be exaggerated plenty before noon today."

"Isn't that always the way of it?" Miroku asked.

"I wouldn't know, Houshi-sama," she answered coldly. "I do not gossip."

_Except for pay,_ Miroku mused but held his tongue. True or not, it was likely to get him a good smack in the face, and the former demon hunter looked like she had an arm on her.

"And you weren't obvious about it, I trust?" Miroku went on. "You did let them pry it out of you?"

"Just as you asked," answered the woman. "I behaved as if it were the most awful secret."

Miroku smiled. "But the real secret is between you and me, my dear," he answered, holding out a respectable-sized pouch.

The apothecary narrowed her eyes suspiciously, plucking the pouch up with one calloused hand. "I don't need to count this, do I?" she asked.

"Madame, you wound me," Miroku answered.

The woman's eyes narrowed as she weighed the purse in her palm, but she set it aside without further comment.

"I owe you my thanks," Miroku said, inclining his head politely. He moved to go, but then hesitated. "But I must ask..."

"Yes, priest?"

"When I first raised this issue with you the other day, you did not seem nearly so..." he searched her cold eyes as he searched for the word, "..._judgmental_."

"I was always judgmental," she told him frankly. "I had simply come to a different conclusion."

He raised an eyebrow expectantly, genuinely curious.

"I had thought that you wished me to spread these lies about you—"

"Not so loud!" Miroku interrupted.

"—because you wished to dispense with your current ways. I thought perhaps that this was some means of distancing yourself from your former companions without giving offense."

Miroku's eyebrows twitched in true surprise. That certainly explained why someone who conducted herself so formally would stoop to the methods he'd required, but there was another feeling growing inside his chest.

She'd actually ...though _highly_ of him. It was an unfamiliar and not entirely comfortable sensation.

"...but once I repeated the knowledge to Mistress Mura down by the south well, it became clear that this plan had other uses," the woman went on. "Am I right?" she asked. "That is what you mean to do, isn't it?"

"Yes," Miroku admitted with a smile. "I must confess that you have me exactly."

"I will keep to my end of the bargain," the apothecary promised. "But I ask that you find other cohorts if you should ever concoct a similar scheme."

Miroku nodded respectfully. "As you wish," he said. "But I expect my current one to suffice."

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drf 24 (at) columbia (dot) edu


	3. The Wager

Sorry if this chapter seems a bit rushed, but I have an announcement to make:

Stacie Holeman is a woman, a fan and a mother of three. Some time ago, she was diagnosed with both breast and ovarian cancer. The folks at Support are running an author auction to raise money for her medical care and general well-being and yours truly has volunteered. Hop over to Majik's World of Fan Fiction to place bids or just watch your fellow fans rile up for a good cause!

I'm currently the sole representative of both _Inuyasha_ and _Underworld_ fandom, but I'll also do _Twlight_ or almost anything else my winning bidder suggests. Other participants include the hilarious kinolaughs and AngstGoddess003. Yes that AngstGoddess003. The one who writes "Wide Awake." (For non-Twifans, that's the fandom equivalent of Rozefire's "Father Figure.")

Starting at 11:59 p.m. Central this Friday, April 3, you start bidding for me to do your bidding! The auction lasts until 9:00 p.m. on April 6. When it's all over, you'll have a minimum 2500-word 'fic and Ms. Holeman will have minimum five of your dollars.

Ask me to write porn at your own risk. Former members of the Green Tea forum will know what I mean by this.

Majik's Ithilwen page: .?f=101&t=2347

Majik's author auction page: .?f=101

Support Stacie: /?page_id=9

Now _Inuyasha_—Rumiko Takahashi. "Country Wife"—Willie W. "Mountainside"—me.

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Half the battle with a woman was knowing when to leave, and Miroku left the apothecary as quickly as his dignity would permit. Now that his personal business was done, duty called.

Superfluous exorcism was only one of Miroku's rackets. There were also legitimate prayers and services, but aside from that the nobles often requested Miroku's presence at meetings with Inuyasha ...in exchange for a modest donation, of course.

Miroku delicately neglected to mention that his use as a demon bouncer was probably unnecessary. For one thing Inuyasha wouldn't really stoop to ripping any of them to shreds and even if he did, Miroku's fastest ofuda probably wouldn't take effect until the poor kid had at least ripped out someone's eye.

In this case, Inuyasha must have been quite fearsome, because Lord Oda had been quite generous. Miroku allowed himself a smirk. Sometimes he entertained the thought of offering Inuyasha a cut, but he never did. He wasn't entirely sure if it was because he didn't think Inuyasha would accept it or because he did.

Either way, it paid the bills, and paying the bills would matter after all, considering that he'd cancelled his plans to skip out on them.

It wasn't a large town. That meant that it wasn't a long walk from the stews to better neighborhoods. Miroku stopped at a certain door and knocked twice. The sullen silence told him that all was as usual. Miroku opened the door himself and slipped inside.

"Good morning, my friend," Miroku said chipperly. After all, what good was having a lesser susceptibility to hangovers if one didn't use it to be extra pleasant to the less fortunate. "I trust you're ready to start expanding your social circle today."

Of all the reckless things that Miroku had gotten himself into when he was drunk, this was far, far from being the worst. After all, there were his own needs to consider, and his little charade had for the moment cut him off from one of his biggest usual sources of female companionship. Getting back in as someone else's wingman solved the problem quite neatly.

"I never said I'd go on your dumb sow hunt, Miroku, now fuck off!" snapped Inuyasha.

Assuming that the wingee was going for it. Miroku rolled his eyes but didn't answer. He should have known better than to bring it up just then, truth be told. Inuyasha was out to wrangle Oda into submission and if there was anything he hated more than dealing with pig-stubborn human nobles it was the getup he had to wear when he headed off to the pen.

The monk knew from experience that the minute the half-demon stepped out the door, his expression would turn disciplined and blank, his words carefully chosen, but for now, Inuyasha let his face pucker like a sour berry.

Inuyasha kept a house in Town-on-the-Mountain, but it was common rumor that he never slept there. It was occasionally heard in the alleyways that demons did not sleep at all. Miroku happened to know otherwise—Inuyasha would bitch proudly that he spent each night perched in a different tree to prevent his scent and habits from giving away his haunts. The monk had his suspicions about this, but kept the truth of the matter to himself.

The idea of the sleepless son of a cloud dog had its mystique, just different enough to keep people in line, not so frightening that it brought out the pitchforks. It might have been worth foregoing the house entirely, but Inuyasha—or the dog clan, most likely—had opted for the solid convenience of a base camp and a place for petitioners to make their case ...not that any of them made it far past the front door. There was a small receiving room where Inuyasha was now sullenly preening for the day's work, but Miroku had never blinked at any of the other rooms. He would have been surprised if any of the villagers had seen more than a shadow through the upper window, ever. In all likelihood, the most frightening thing in Inuyasha's unused house was an army of dust bunnies massing for the takeover, but wagging tongues spoke of claws and blood and Inuyasha let them. It was good for business.

The hanyou finished struggling with the heavily embroidered shoes, then straightened and tucked the edge of his collar into place. Miroku stepped back with practiced ease as a huge, flowing tail of fur deployed over his friend's shoulder with a loud POOMF! He'd raked his hair into some semblance of smoothness, which only made the tufts of his white ears stand out, starker and stranger, against the folded order of his clothes.

The red kimono suit outfit suited Inuyasha infinitely better, Miroku thought. The half-demon wore the fire-rat cloth as if it were his own fur, and if it drew attention to his claws and fangs (and his penchant for scratching impossible parts of his body with his feet), it also brought out the flush of very mortal blood coloring his cheeks through his skin. The "work clothes," which was the kindest thing Inuyasha ever called them, made him glitter like some wild prince. Even after Inuyasha had discarded some of the flashier parts of the outfit (either torn to shreds or taken for provisions by the dust army), he still seemed still and strong, as if he were made of stone and air at once.

Miroku was probably the only human alive who knew that they were hand-me-downs.

"That being the case," Miroku trailed off. "Do you think it will take much longer for you to be ready? Need to curl your hair, perhaps?"

"Fuck you."

"Let's be off, then." Miroku suggested. Inuyasha growled and stomped toward the door.

Like a traveler falling under a forest spell, Inuyasha's posture shifted as he passed through the gateway, chin turning up as his eyes stared toward the distance at the horizon and down his nose at passers by. His heavy steps grew smooth and light to fit the shoes on his feet as Miroku followed him up the steep, narrow street.

Miroku knew better than to say out loud what Inuyasha looked like. He'd only met the Inu no taisho's older son once, but bearing like that was unmistakable.

It was old business between the two of them. The poor fellow idolized his demon side and his demon relatives—and Miroku had to admit that the Inu no taisho was impressive. He had heard that some of the humans who'd witnessed the signing of the treaty, long ago, had been impressed enough to need a change of trousers partway through. Miroku could see why Inuyasha would want to play up his demon side, but in forgetting his human half, he forgot himself, and it was Miroku's duty to help the poor lad find what enlightenment he could ...even if it was only the enlightenment of how much fun humanity could be.

A delicate footfall reached his ears. Miroku allowed himself a smug smile.

And humanity was _especially_ fun when there were human girls around.

With all the reflexes of a dancer, Miroku's face composed into his own light mask of monkly reflection and his spine assumed the arc, the perfect arc, of pious grace. Fortunately, pious grace looked very good on him. Miroku turned his head serenely toward the sound of Mistress Mizumi and her friends on their morning walk.

And he wasn't the only one who'd made the effort. Out of the corner of his eye, he noted Inuyasha's dull-eyed, stony nothingness where his morning scowl should have been. He imagined that it was intimidating for anyone who didn't know the con.

Miroku stood quietly, head bowed, as first Mizumi and then each of her three friends swept Inuyasha the graceful, silent bow of greeting that was due the representative of the Dog Lord. Inuyasha returned the gesture, though not as deeply and a good deal more stilted. Miroku had seen it many times. Sometimes he had to wonder which set of manners was the act. Whenever Inuyasha was around the gentry, he spoke softly, barely moving. Even the awkwardness with which he performed his morning greetings served this purpose. Every wrong tic of his head, every twitch of a muscle not quite where it ought to be reminded his human allies that he was a creature from the clouds and that these were not his ways, his world, his movements. He was just barely stepping into their world for a day, a minute, a breath and then he would be gone and their protection would be gone and they had all better not forget it. The sneering, lusty demon that he became when he was away from the politicians was vivid and straightforward enough to frighten the commoners into line ...and enough to keep Miroku from getting bored.

Miroku greeted the women with his usual courtly bow. Matron and maids then dipped heads and necks—_very_ nice—in response and scurried off. As they padded away, Miroku just barely saw Mistress Mizumi whisper something behind her hand to her maids—scandalous behavior for a young, married lady of good family.

Inuyasha made a noise not at all unlike a duck that's just realized that it can't actually swallow the whole boat. "You're _what?_" he demanded.

Funny how word got around in a small town, especially to people with youkai hearing.

Miroku sighed beatifically. "Eavesdropping again, Inuyasha?"

"The hell I am." Inuyasha snapped, his grace momentarily forgotten. "How the fuck is it my fault if she forgets that I can hear her?"

"Be careful your father doesn't hear you talking like that."

"My father comes to visit twice a year, _if_ he remembers, and all he cares about is whether we held the border."

"Then be careful that your brother doesn't hear you."

"My brother can go choke on his fluffy. Now what's going on?"

Miroku's playful mask fell away. "It is exactly as our lovely friend said just now," he confessed. "The gods have seen fit to punish my libertine ways. I am..." The monk's face darkened like a sky beneath a gathering storm. One hand took hold of the railing beside them, as if some hidden blow had stolen all his strength. His chin dipped he swallowed the bitterness of his words. "...I am impotent, my friend."

Inuyasha whacked Miroku in the back of the head.

"Ow! What was that for?"

"How many times do I have to tell you not to do your monk tricks with me?" growled Inuyasha.

"Yes, Inuyasha, but I thought you were talking about the ritual purifications and such."

"Those _and_ that crap you pull with women to get them to sleep with you."

"Oh," said Miroku. "It was the thing with my throat, wasn't it? I thought that might be too much."

"Look, not that I ain't glad to say 'I told you that your dick would fall off if you keep screwing every girl with a pulse and some of the guys'—"

"Not _every_ girl with a pulse."

"—but if you think I don't know when you're lying your ass off, then I probably hit you too hard."

"You've hit me too hard in any case," muttered Miroku. "Look, I understand if some explanations are in order, but perhaps they should take place when Lord Oda is not waiting for you to show up."

Inuyasha snorted. "Ain't you the one who told me to make them wait?"

"True," murmured Miroku, "true..."

"Yeah, but what i'n' true is what Puka said just now."

"Must you call her by that infantile name?" asked Miroku.

Inuyasha folded his arms and glared. The look would have been far more effective if the breeze hadn't pushed Sesshoumaru's spare fluffy into his face.

"All right," Miroku said in a low voice that he was sure Inuyasha could hear perfectly, "I bribed the new apothecary to tell every gossipmonger in the city that I'm useless to women." At Inuyasha's raised eyebrow, he added, "I mean that as a _metaphor_."

"What the fuck you do that for?" snarled Inuyasha.

"First, to get my lady friend's husbands off my back," he said. "Second," his face broke in a real smile, "Inuyasha, it's so brilliant!"

"How do you mean?" the dog prince asked.

"Well as you know, my dear Inuyasha, there is a certain kind of woman who, no matter what charms and graciousness be employed upon her, will never render up her own charming graces, not even to a man of my skill."

Inuyasha snorted. "The ones who aren't closet harlots, you mean."

"I prefer to think that these otherwise virtuous young ladies find themselves dissatisfied in their inattentive husbands," Miroku answered primly.

"Ha! Old Sagawa didn't seem too inattentive when he chased you down the street in your birthday suit!"

"Exactly! Imagine if he'd shown that much vigor in his marriage bed!" explained Miroku. "Why, when I think of his poor young wife, so ignored except in wrongdoing..."

"Get on with it, monk."

"Anyway," Miroku continued. "Mistress Yuka is hardly the first to utter word of my ...affliction in my presence. Why just yesterday evening Mistress Ayame most compassionately assured me that this one little problem didn't make any difference and I was every bit as much of a man."

Miroku paused, leaning back on his heels. He could almost see the gears turning in Inuyasha's head. He was a simple fellow, deep down, but he'd get it in a minute. Any second now...

"And Mistress Yuka ignored you like she ignores her husband's rotten hygiene..."

Miroku nodded. "See the point yet?"

"You're doing this to take the guesswork out of it?" Inuyasha asked incredulously.

"Precisely!" Miroku confirmed with satisfaction. "Any woman who coos and reassures me is evidently _not_ looking for my 'special' exorcisms. The ones who don't... Well, I had heard that Mistress Yuka's husband had been spending too much time around his stable boys. Who could blame her for seeking hope and comfort in another pair of arms?"

Inuyasha shook his head. "This is not how you usually work, monk."

"On no," he replied. "One moment alone with Mistress Yuka, one little speech about how her beauty has restored my strength... And the best part? If her husband asks if I came to visit, she can simply speak the truth and arouse no suspicion."

The half-demon's arms were still folded across his chest like battlements. "This is not going to end well, priest."

"Oh I beg to differ," insisted Miroku.

"No," said Inuyasha, "no, this is not going to end well."

"Care to place a wager on that?" Miroku asked.

Inuyasha's eyes narrowed again. The poor boy had learned months ago never to bet against Miroku. When he didn't win, he bluffed, and when he didn't bluff, he cheated.

"All right," the half-demon said at last. "I'll put twenty rounds at Barako's that this stupid plan of yours completely bites you in the ass."

"One can only hope," added Miroku, "and if I should last through the winter and find myself no worse off than I am now, then I would be the winner?"

"Deal," answered Inuyasha, sticking his hand out for a shake. "Start saving your pennies, monkey boy."

Miroku chuckled smugly, "Oh I will."

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drf 24 (at) columbia (dot) edu


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